


The Runaway Cafe

by Nicxan



Category: TheRunawayGuys
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Gen, God this was a nostalgia punch to the gut, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 09:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20095393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Emile is very ... very insistent on making sure the pastries look perfect in their display. But he has a good reason for it, seriously.





	The Runaway Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> God writing this one was nostalgic for me, because on Tumblr, YEARS ago, I remember this giant boom of The Runaway Cafe AUs, art, fic drabbles, all sorts of stuff. It faded out as quick as it came but I remember it fondly.
> 
> Anyways thanks writer's month for giving me an excuse to write it again! Prompt for Day 3, as you can see, was 'coffee shop AU.'

“Emile.”  
  
Emile didn’t hear Jon right away, too focused on arranging the pastries in their display. He was totally focused on the job, moving them to just the right spots to make them look as appetizing as possible – Tim had outdone himself today, and he was going to do his part to make sure they sold. They had to! It was too important to squander!  
  
“_Emile._”  
  
Maybe the croissants should be moved a bit to the left? No way, that would off-center everything. They should go on the right, that made much more sense. Emile shifted them a bit more --  
  
“_Yo! Emile! _Customer at the counter!”  
  
“Crap!” Emile jolted up, nearly slamming his head on the roof of the display, and rushed over towards the counter to help whoever was standing there. She was being patient, at least, and greeted him with a smile. Emile took his place at the till, a friendly grin on his face as he addressed her.  
  
“Morning, welcome to the Runaway Cafe! What can I get you?”  
  
“Uh … Blue Mushroom Capp, please? That sounds pretty good. No whip, though, please.”  
  
“You got it! One Blue Mushroom Capp, no whipped cream. Anything else?”  
  
She peered over at the display case, letting the purse on her shoulder droop slightly. Emile’s heart leaped when she inched over closer, clearly examine the baked goods that Tim worked so hard on. She was totally gonna buy one.  
  
“Um … A croissant, please? Those look good.”  
  
“Those _are_ good, yeah!” Emile rang up the croissant, beaming inwardly. And outwardly. Really, he was just beaming. “All right, Blue Mushroom Capp with no whip, and a croissant. That all?”  
  
She just nodded and handed over her card, and Emile rang it through. The moment he handed her the receipt, he moved like lightning, rushing around the station to make her cappuccino – while he didn’t have the finesse Jon and Tim did with this, he could at least get them out fast. And with cute whip patterns!  
  
“Thanks, come again!”  
  
The moment she was out the door, Emile bolted towards the blackboard in the backroom. He marked a tally for the amount of pastries sold.  
  
“… Emile, what the hell are you doing?”  
  
Emile glanced over at Jon, who had been observing Emile’s shenanigans with a raised eyebrow all the while. The basis of their friendship, really.  
  
“What? You don’t remember what we’re doing with The Fabulous Fours’ today?”  
  
“Which would be …?”  
  
“A competition! Jake said that they could sell more pastries, which, no way, not when we have Tim,” Emile hurriedly explained. He checked on the batch of muffins in the oven as he continued. “So we’re keeping track today. Whoever sells the most pastries wins!”  
  
“And what do we get if we win?”  
  
He froze at Jon’s question, brow furrowed. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he couldn’t let Jon know that. (Even though Jon already knew, more than likely.)  
  
“… Uh … prestige?” Emile asked feebly, a sheepish grin on his face. Jon considered this for a moment, then shrugged.  
  
“Well, better than nothing. All right, we’ll kick their asses. Let’s go.”  
  
Emile high-fived Jon on the way out of the backroom.


End file.
